A Superhero Complex
by LordLanceahlot
Summary: “I think you and Booth should be superheroes.” Booth and Brennan muse on the subject.


"I think you and Booth should be superheroes."

Doctor Temperance Brennan didn't even look up from her computer screen.

"No, Angela."

Throwing herself in the chair by her best friend's desk, Angela tilted her head to give her a considering look and picked up her sketchpad.

"Seriously."

"No, Angela."

You guys solve mysteries, you put bad guys in jail, you both find yourselves dangling over the snapping jaws of death an awful lot and you'd both look great in tight fitting leather or spandex. What's not superheroish about that? You could have matching costumes and intimidating insignias on your chests."

Now, Brennan did look up from her work. "Angela, are you drunk?"

Blowing out a breath and watching her hair rise and fall, Angela shook her head. "Unfortunately not. Just bored. And picturing Booth in tight, black leather."

Brennan flushed and shook her head. "Superheroes are unrealistic and created to be idols. Back in 1938, the emergence of Superman marked the beginning of what many call the 'superhero genre,' however he was hardly the first. One could call any sort of being he worships a superhero, or super being. And picturing Booth in leather is hardly conducive to a healthy work environment."

A slow smile spread across Angela's face. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"No, but if I was, I hardly see how it would be relevant. It would be like envisioning Booth in jeans, or his normal suits. Any way you look at it, everything is covered."

Angela raised an eyebrow. "But the way that black leather stretches just right over his--"

"Angela!"

Too late, Angela was already making sweeping strokes on her sketch pad. Almost afraid to ask, and having a sneaking suspicion, Brennan buried her head in her arms.

"I'm drawing some costume ideas for you and Booth," Angela said, without looking up.

Rolling her eyes and thinking Angela needed a few days of vacation, Brennan turned back to her story. She typed a few sentences, paused, and then reworked them. In the gaps between the clacking of her keys, Angela's pencil scratched lightly across the surface of the paper. They fell into a companionable silence.

"Bones!"

Angela let out a squeal and dropped her pencil, while Brennan's hands shuddered violently over the keyboard.

"God, Booth, give a girl a heart attack?" Angela said, her hand pressed firmly to her heart. "I think it started beating again," she mused to herself, thumping her chest a little to jumpstart her heart.

Booth had the grace took look a little sheepish. "Sorry Angela, Bones. I just…" He paused and his eyes twinkled. "I'm not interrupting your girl time am I? The last time I started you both so badly you were in the middle of taking that fascinating, fascinating Cosmopolitan sex quiz."

"You are the one who finds natural biological urges to be a conversation topic to shy away from in discussion, Booth," Brennan said, clicking her Word document shut. "I find that talking about sexual encounters can be a healthy means of expression when used in the right context. During that sex quiz, for example, we were merely judging whether Hodgins…"

"_Bones!_ I do not want to hear it." Booth shifted back uncomfortably, hoping they weren't hiding rulers and handcuffs somewhere on their persons. "Anyway, I came to see if you were doing anything for dinner. Do you want to head to the Diner? You're welcome to come too, Angela." He paused when he realized she was looking at him intently. "Angela?"

"Leather. Definitely leather. But spandex for you, Bren."

That threw him though a loop. "Excuse me?" Oh God, had he just squeaked? No, that was bad. Picturing leather or spandex on his gorgeous, completely professional partner was a bad, bad thing. Besides, Angela was obviously talking about… leggings. Those were spandex, right? And a girl thing? Though he had never heard of leather leggings…

"Angela. Stop. This," Brennan gritted out, blushing a little as she caught a glimpse of her friend's sketchpad. "And don't show that to Booth."

"Show me what?" Before Angela could react, Booth had the sketchpad in his hands and was back against the wall in a matter of seconds. He let out an impressed whistle. "Whoa, is this supposed to be Bones?" He looked up and gave her his best charm smile. "I like it. It's very Xena Warrior Princess meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

"I don't know what that means and _give _that back."

"Relax, Bones, it was a compliment. Great drawing, Ange. I like the," he choked back a laugh "metal breastplate."

Brennan was turning a fierce shade of red, while Angela giggled. "Flip to the next page, Booth."

"The Adventures of Bones the Warrior Princess Slayer Woman continue?" He turned the page, fully expecting to see another drawing of Bones in the cute little outfit Angela had dreamt up. "I bet you'll look--- _Jesus Christ._ What the hell is this?"

He dropped the sketchpad like it was on fire. "Please, please Angela, tell me that's supposed to be a picture of Hodgins… or Zack… or… Dr. Goodman…"

"Nope, it's you."

"Let me see," Bones jumped up from her desk, her characteristic work ethic compromised at the thought of embarrassing pictures of Booth.

Booth and Brennan both dove for the fallen sketch pad. Booth's fingers closed over the pages first, and he let out a triumphant laugh. Brennan glared at him, and then without warning shoved her shoulder into his stomach, effectively pushing him back onto the couch and causing him to drop the picture as the air whooshed out of him.

Grinning as Angela howled with laughter, she looked at her friend's drawing. Oh. Well. Angela had certainly taken liberties with the drawing. She had no idea leather could be so revealing. She snuck a peek up through her lashes at Booth, who had sunk into the couch cushions and was glaring at her petulantly.

"It's a very fanciful drawing."

Booth looked affronted. "Hey, it's not that far off."

Holding the sketchpad up to her face, she turned it so Booth could see it. "You're telling me you would wear that outfit? And that your muscles are that defined?"

He crossed his arms. "My muscles are just fine."

"There's no need to be affronted, Booth. Angela would have had to draw you with an exaggerated muscular structure in order to propagate the superhero myth and for the pants to fit."

Booth opened his mouth and then shut it again, clearly at a loss. "I can't believe we are having this conversation." He swung his head toward Angela. "Why," he asked pointedly, "are we having this conversation?"

She shrugged. "As I was telling Brennan, I think the two of you should look into the superhero business."

He squinted at her. "Are you drunk?"

Brennan let out a heartfelt "thank you!" as Angela shook her head vehemently.

"I'm trying to come up with names. Which one of you two is the sidekick?"

"Bones."

"Booth."

They glared at each other.

"Wait, Bones, this is a ridiculous conversation. We're not superheroes. Why are we arguing about this?"

"Booth is the sidekick."

"Hey! No, you are. Who's in charge when we're on the field?"

"Me."

"No, I am. You're the bones lady, but I'm in charge of the crime scene."

"Hardly."

They glared at each other again.

"You are so the sidekick, Booth."

Angela piped in, casually breaking up their argument. "Which of you likes to be on top?"

"Bones."

"Me."

Angela let out a squeal. "I knew it! I so knew you two hooked up." She got up from her chair and breezed out of the room. "Keep those drawings, if you'd like."

Booth's jaw went slack as Brennan dropped her head on his shoulder.

"Damn."

* * *

Hehe. I know that was wierd. I apologize. My best friend bought me a book that inspired this. Bones is a bit of a difficult character to write, so I'm still working on it. My apologies for any OOCness, though honestly, this whole story was OOC. ;)

Laura


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